Abandon All Hope
by darkwingsdarkwords
Summary: An uneventful night of planning a surprise party for Garcia turns into a nightmare when Prentiss arrives at J.J.'s home. Abducted and injured, they are subjected to brutal treatment by two UnSubs. Will the team be able to save them in time? No pairings.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

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**Abandon All Hope**

_Prologue_

Emily wasn't in the habit of stopping by her team member's homes without permission. In fact, she was rarely in the habit of stopping by their homes even with permission. Something about it had always made her feel uncomfortable, and while she trusted each and every one of them implicitly, she'd never really made very good friends with any of them. It was her fault, rather than any of theirs. Her entire life, Emily had been hesitant to mix work with her personal life, and her time with the BAU was no different. It wasn't even that she didn't consider them family, because she did. There was no way that she couldn't consider them family, not after everything that they had been through together. She also considered them friends. It was more that she was afraid of bringing the horrors of their job into any intimate friendships she might have with them.

Perhaps that was the real fear, that her fellow team members wouldn't want to be close friends with her outside the job because she would remind them of the tragedies they faced day in and day out. It was irrational, because Emily saw how close Derek and Penelope were. Nothing came between their friendship. If anything, the hard quality of their work pushed them together, strengthening their care for one another. Even deep inside herself Emily was hesitant to admit how much she longed for that warmth in her life. Neither of her parents were very close to her, same with her sister and brother. There was little love between any of them, more of a business quality than anything. Emily had always thought that her parents viewed their children has a job, rather than a gift, and she'd grown afraid that her perception of them had tainted the way she viewed everyone else as well.

The cold snapped her out of her thoughts as Emily pushed her car door open. Shivering, she stepped out into the street, glancing around briefly before closing and locking the doors, arming the alarm. It was a cold night, more than cold truthfully, but thankfully not raining, or worse. If it hadn't been for J.J.'s request that Emily stop by that night, she likely wouldn't have even come out of her home again after being told that she could leave work for the day. As the cold wind bit at her, Emily hurried up J.J.'s walkway, all the way wishing for the warmth of her fireplace. Stepping into the glow of the porch light, Emily paused a moment before withdrawing a hand from her pocket. She'd forgotten her gloves in the car. Quickly, she glanced behind her despite the obvious futile idea of going back for the gloves when she was already at the door, and then as fast she could whipped her hand up to hit the door with her knuckles.

At first, she thought that perhaps she hadn't knocked hard enough. J.J. certainly should have answered the door by then, and while Emily was no expert at telling time without a clock, she was sure that the cold hadn't made her so impatient that she was willing to turn ten seconds into what felt like near a minute. After she felt confident that she could knock again without sounding thoroughly impatient, Emily did. There was still no response, not even a hint of a sound on the other door. Frowning, she withdrew her phone from her pocket, this time not caring that her hand would be subjected to the cold. Something was wrong, Emily could feel it. If J.J. had told her to meet her at home, then J.J. would be there. She simply wasn't the type to forget something like that, not to mention there were lights clearly on inside.

There was no answer on J.J.'s cell phone. Emily didn't blink an eye about calling her home. Inside, the sound of the phone ringing came, and then to Emily's surprise there was a crash followed by loud and vicious barking. Immediately her hand went to her gun and she tried the door to see if it was unlocked. It wasn't, but that didn't stop Emily. Careful now, barely even registering the cold, she moved toward the front window. The curtains were drawn, and there wasn't any gaps for her to see through. At least that meant that if anyone was inside, it was unlikely that they could see her. Silently, or as quietly as she could, Emily moved toward the back of the house. The gate leading into the backyard was ajar, but she couldn't really say if that meant anything. She wasn't knowledgeable about J.J.'s home habits. The fact that J.J. had a dog hadn't been known to her. At least, she fervently hoped that J.J. did have a dog.

When she entered the backyard and saw a dark shape lying on the ground, her heart pounded harder. As she neared it, she saw that rather than a person, it was a dog. A dog much smaller than a human was, meaning that Emily had blown its size out of proportion with fear. A bleeding dog that Emily wasn't sure was still alive. Part of her desperately wanted to check and see. It looked like it had been stabbed. She was absolutely certain now that J.J. did have dogs, and since she doubted this was the same one that had been barking and growling inside, she had to assume that there was at the very least two. This scared her, because she couldn't be certain that an already upset and protective dog would register her as a friend. Emily would hate to have to shoot a dog that belonged to someone she respected, and considered a friend.

It turned out that Emily wouldn't need to shoot the dog. It had fallen silent by the time she reached the back door. While it was closed, it wasn't locked. Careful not to make any sound as she stepped inside, she did a quick check of the room to make sure it was clear before moving forward. The only thing out of place seemed to be a lamp that had been knocked off a table, and lay broken on the floor. There was no other sign of a struggle. Instinctively she wanted to call out to J.J. but she now knew that whoever was inside this house had a knife. Using the dog as evidence, she was also positive that whoever he was, this man wouldn't bat an eye at using it. Emily couldn't help but hope that the poor animal managed to survive, along with the one inside. If anything, she had to guess that the dog had tried to protect J.J. once it realized there was an intruder. Now that it was quiet, she couldn't help but wonder if this second dog had met the same fate as the first, and whether she would reach the man before he did the same to J.J.

The kitchen, study and hall were clear, as was the bathroom and guest room. There were small things about the house that made the situation better. It was a single level home, so she wouldn't have to worry about checking another floor, and it had a limited number of rooms beyond the ones she'd already checked. It seemed there were just two more closed doors for her to check. The first was clear, and when Emily faced the last, she couldn't stop the feeling of dread that welled up inside of her. No matter how much she braced herself, if she found a dead or severely injured J.J. inside, there would be no stopping the rage, or sorrow that would fight to take over her training as an FBI agent. Emily waited only a few seconds, taking several deep breaths to calm herself before opening the door.

The light was on, and the first thing Emily saw was the dog. It was a big German Shepard, larger than the one in the yard, and it looked like it was hurt worse than the other too. Emily wished that the dog were dead, even if it felt wrong, because clearly this dog was still alive. The moment it saw Emily it started to whimper, tail wagging feebly, and tried to raise its head off the floor, then move toward her. It didn't treat her like another enemy, and there was nothing she could do to stop the tears that filled her eyes. This was J.J.'s dog, not just some strangers and the fact that it had recognized her as a friend, instead of growling the moment it had seen her, made Emily's heart swell just slightly before constricting again in fear. Where was J.J.?

It seemed the only answer was behind a closed door that probably housed a bathroom. Swallowing hard, she moved forward quickly and turned the knob, kicking it open with her foot while she leveled her gun. The man wasn't in the bathroom, but J.J. was. That scared Emily, because she'd thoroughly checked the whole house and if he wasn't here then he had to be somewhere nearby. Regardless, she knew the bedroom was clear so she hurried to close the door, locking it behind her before she returned to J.J. She spared a brief glance at the dog and vowed to turn her attention to it once she knew that J.J. was safe, or dead. Though the latter was too hard a thought to consider, so she didn't.

J.J. was alive, but unconscious. As far as Emily could tell she hadn't been stabbed, but she did look like she'd been beaten severely. There was blood all over the other woman's face, and even though she wasn't awake her body huddled inward, her arms tucked close to her chest as if she were protecting an injured area. Since Emily hadn't found any stab wounds, she had to assume that whatever damage there might be was either internal or merely just badly hurting. It was a feeling that she could easily commiserate with, as she herself had once been personally beaten by an UnSub, and it made her angry that J.J. had to go through something similar. Gently, she touched J.J.'s face, saying her name, trying to get her to wake up. There was a head wound that Emily hadn't noticed before, and it concerned her that she also wasn't conscious.

After several tres, she gave up, instead pulling out her phone and dialing 911. Her next call would be the team, but for now, she needed to alert to local PD that there was a dangerous man in the area wielding a knife, and that he'd already injured two animals and one woman. When the operator answered, Emily barely gave the woman time to speak. "This is Emily Prentiss with the FBI requesting assistance and an ambulance at 4631 Shell Avenue. We have an agent, Jennifer Jareau, down, and the attacker is still in the area. He's armed with a knife," she said curtly.

"Yes, Ma'am. That was 4631 Shell Avenue, FBI Agent requesting Police assistance and medical care for a wounded Agent?" the woman repeated, her voice calm. It irritated Emily, but she didn't let that seep into her voice when she reassured the woman that her information was correct.

"Ok, Emily. Can you tell me what condition your friend is? You said the man had a knife. Has Jennifer been stabbed?"

"No, not stabbed, but beaten. She's unconscious, breathing, but hurt. I don't know anything other than that," Emily explained, and before the operator had time to respond she added, "You might want to send animal control. There are two dogs that have been stabbed, as well. At least one is still alive and in pain." Silently she added on, 'I won't shoot it unless I have to.'

If Emily hadn't been on the phone she probably would have heard the door's lock click open, or registered the dogs low growl as someone entered. It was her only mistake of the night and it cost her dearly. She was hit from behind, hard. The phone fell to the ground, hitting the hard floor and breaking. Crying out, Emily fell with it, her gun slipping from her hand. She wished that J.J. was awake, wished that someone else was there to catch the gun and turn it on the man, but there was no one else and it took everything inside of her to stop the scream that bubbled to the surface when she was kicked in the ribs. Huddled on the ground, she fought the tears stinging her eyes. She needed to be strong, needed to think of a way out the situation, but there was no time.

Rough hands grabbed her hair, dragging her to her feet. Emily was pushed into the bedroom, landing on her hands and knees on the floor, gasping for breath. It hurt to breath, and she hated the thought that the one kick might have cracked a rib. The sound of the man with J.J. in the bathroom made Emily fight past the pain. Shakily she got to her feet, glancing at her gun inside the bathroom. It was just barely visible and there was no way that she was going to be able to get to it. From here, all she could see about the man was his back, and a head of curly brown hair. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, in a voice that only trembled a little bit. If she hadn't been so scared, she would have been proud.

Looking back at her, he barely seemed to register her as a threat. Emily tried not to let that bother her, but it did. She might be smaller than him, and a female, but she was conscious and she had called the police. It was that small fact that made her hopeful that they would get out of this alive. Her hopes were soon slammed completely into the ground and shattered when a second man entered the room. They had to have been outside when Emily entered the house. The only other door leading to the backyard had been in the first guest bedroom, but it had required a key to get in and had been locked. Emily hadn't thought twice about it, hadn't even considered the possibility that these men might actually have keys to J.J.'s house.

The man stared at Emily with a greedy look on his face. The dog growled louder as the man came closer to Emily, struggling harder to get to its feet. When he kicked the animal, Emily couldn't stop herself. She moved forward quickly, hoping to surprise him. It didn't work, and no matter how hard she fought against him nothing helped. He was bigger than her, so much stronger, and she was in pain. It didn't take long for him to subdue her, to hit her so hard in the face that everything went black. She'd always imagined that at a time like this she would simply lose herself completely, not be able to think or be scared. She'd been wrong. Emily was terrified, fully aware that while her mind was inside this darkness, her body was in the hands of two men who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her.

When she finally came around, everything was hazy. Her entire body hurt, and it was a battle just to open her eyes. There was nothing familiar about her surroundings, even though she could barely make them out. It was clear enough to Emily that she wasn't at J.J.'s anymore, though she had no idea where. As she became more alert she realized that she was in a car, and that she was bound at the wrists and ankles, with a gag tied around her face, cloth shoved between her teeth. After struggling for a moment or two with no results, she fell still, instead listening. There was no sound except that of the car. Whoever had taken her wasn't big on talking, and there wasn't any sound to indicate that J.J. was with her.

That frightened her, more than she already was. What if J.J. had died? It hurt Emily to think that way, but at the same time she remembered all the abduction cases involving women that they'd had to deal with. Images of tortured bodies dumped in forests flashed into her mind. What if it were better if J.J. had died there in her house rather than be stuck at the mercy of these men? The moment the thought was in Emily's mind she started crying, and once she started she couldn't stop. She kept herself from doing it noisily, but either way, she was almost certain that whoever had her would still be able to hear her. It made her feel weak and pathetic. She needed to be strong, not give in to her fears and let them overtake her.

A long time later, Emily lay in the car, not crying anymore when it stopped. The men got out, a door opened and there was the sound of something, or someone, being taken out of it. She was both relieved and worried, because though she assumed it was J.J. she had not proof that it was a J.J. that was alive. Perhaps they were just dumping her body before moving on to the place where they would keep Emily. Her stomach turned, and for a moment she was almost certain that she was going to throw up. Thankfully she didn't, though the feeling got worse when the men returned. One of them opened a door near her feet, only to stand there staring at her. It was dark, his face was shadowed, so she couldn't see which one it was.

Finally, he grabbed her ankles, yanking her toward him. Crying out in protest that was muffled by her gag, Emily tried to move her arms up to grab something. She felt stupid for not realizing it until now, but a length of rope was connected to what had been tied around her ankles and wrist, stopping her from being able to do anything with her arms at all. This made Emily feel like she hadn't fought hard enough to get free in the car earlier, that she'd given up too quickly. It wasn't as if the feeling were too off base. Had she fought just a little longer to free herself, she would have realized, but there was nothing she could about it now as she was dragged from the car.

Her head neared the edge of the seat, scaring her with the prospect of her just falling out of the car. The man, who had been the first one to come into the bedroom, caught her though, before she could fall. He steadied her on her feet, then put a noose around her neck. After tightening it so that it was snug around her throat, he grabbed the length that was free and pulled her. It rankled being collared and led like a dog. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled against it once in another protest. Roughly, Emily was pulled forward, almost onto her knees. A heavy hand slapped her across the face. "Try that again, bitch, and I'll slit your fucking throat," whispered the man, close enough to her now that she could feel his breath on her ear. Feeling defiant in her fear, if she wouldn't have had the gag on, Emily would have dared him to try.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

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**Abandon All Hope**

_Chapter One_

All that Penelope needed to be happy was her computer. At the moment, she was more than happy. Wrapped in a soft blanket on her couch, she was sitting with her laptop playing one of her games. Despite the unfortunate hacking that had occurred at the hands of Sir Knieghf, Penelope couldn't deny her soft spot for MMORPGs. It was a way to delve into a fantasy world that, while it still had violence, didn't share the harsh brutalities of the real world. She was able to have fun, and ever since the incident at work, she'd never attempted to play while there. That was strictly for when she was at home, or at Kevin's. Although, when she was at Kevin's she wasn't really interested in playing games. Unless, of course, when he wanted to play online with her. It was nerdy, but if the shoe fit, neither of them saw any reason not to wear it.

Penelope was immersed in her game, and hadn't been expecting a window to pop up on her screen accompanied by several loud beeps. It startled her so much that she jumped, swearing loudly. The swearing only continued when she read what was on the window. Her instant response of crying didn't bother her. Everyone knew that Penelope wore her heart on her sleeve, and that she wasn't ashamed at the feelings she carried for her fellow team members. In fact, she refused to simply call them her team members, or her friends. They were her family, even Jason and Elle, who were no longer with the BAU. They would, and had in some cases, killed for one another, and that meant the world to someone like Penelope. It meant that she would always consider them her closest friends, and among the handful that she would do absolutely anything for.

The written words relaying the 911 call were all she could think about as she dialed Derek's number. _This is Emily Prentiss with the FBI requesting assistance and an ambulance at 4631 Shell Avenue. We have an agent, Jennifer Jareau, down, and the attacker is still in the area. He's armed with a knife._ Shaking so much that it took three tries to get the number right, Penelope was beside herself with fear and worry. The rest of the document said J.J. was beaten, but then it just stopped abruptly. There was no other information. When Derek answered, she could barely get the words out. Everything kept getting mixed up, and she had a feeling that Derek was going to think she was drunk.

She was right. Penelope tried to gather herself, get what she wanted to say in the right order while Derek laughed and asked her if she was alright. Evidently the fact that she was crying hadn't registered, or he was distracted enough that he hadn't noticed. "Derek, shut up. I'm not fine. You need to call Hotch and the others and let them know that J.J. and Emily were attacked at J.J.'s house. I don't know what happened. It just stops after Emily says that J.J. was beaten," she said in a rush. Penelope thought that maybe a few words were unintelligible, but for the most part, was confident that the point had gotten across. Derek was silent on the other end for all of three seconds.

"What are you talking about, Penelope?" he asked, and she knew she had his complete attention. Derek never called her Penelope unless it was serious. Usually she hated it, but right now, she didn't care. She was simply happy that he was listening to her and not laughing.

"I know I'm not supposed to, but I have a trace up for 911 logs so that if any of your names ever comes up being typed in by an operator I'll be informed," she told him, hoping that he would simply accept that and then get off the phone. It didn't occur to her that she could have called everyone herself. Her first instinct when she was feeling scared was to call Derek. Penelope felt safe with him, even just talking with him on the phone she felt better.

"That sounds just like something you would do," Derek commented softly. "Alright, sit tight, Baby Girl. I'll call the others. Find out what you can, and then come in. I'll be there with the others." Then he was gone, and Penelope felt small and insignificant in terms of being able to do anything useful. That was, until she realized who she was and what she could do to help. She wasn't a member of the team for nothing. Soon, she was sitting in front of her computer, fingers clicking on the keyboard as fast she could, eyes glued to the computer. More reports had come in about the call. Apparently the police had arrived shortly after, found the place empty, two dogs severely injured, sign of a struggle but no FBI agents or man with a knife.

This didn't sit well with Penelope, who was on her feet the next instant. She was halfway to the door when she realized she wasn't wearing shoes, and that it was cold enough outside that she'd need a jacket. Fixing the situation quickly, she was out the door and on her way to the only place she would be better suited to help her friends. The car drive was tense, too quiet and halfway there she turned the radio on to keep her mind from going to dark, dark places only to turn it off five minutes later in irritation. She didn't want to listen to some stupid love song when her friends could be dying, or already dead. What she wanted was for someone to come on the radio and tell her that they'd been found, were safe, but that wasn't going to happen. She preferred the silence.

By the time she'd arrived mostly everyone was already there, and the absence of Emily and J.J. was glaringly obvious. It was apparent on all their faces that they were worried, but Penelope knew that if anyone could save them, it was definitely the group assembled before her. It gave her comfort, and hope that they had a fighting chance. It didn't really matter that for the time being that hope was so slim that Penelope felt like it wasn't even there. The majority of her feelings were caught up in a whirlwind of terror. Terror that she was unwilling to succumb to as she faced Aaron and asked, "What do you have for me to work with, Hotch?"

Aaron glanced up at her. He'd been reading something, frowning. "Not much more than what you gave us. We called the station, they were glad to have us help them. I sent Reid and Rossi there to see what else they could find out from the scene," he explained.

"I'm assuming you asked if any other women have gone missing recently?" Penelope inquired, already thinking ahead to what she needed to look for herself.

"None have, which means we don't have any other victimology to go on other than J.J. and Prentiss," he told her, sounding defeated. It wasn't often that Penelope, or any of the others, heard him that way.

"I'll look in surrounding cities," Penelope assured him. They were losing time, time that didn't need to be spent talking about what to do. Everyone had been in these situations enough time to know what should be done, and how fast. That meant that all Penelope really cared about was getting online and searching for whatever might help. Her usual guilt over looking through people's private lives was still there, but she knew that in order to save J.J. and Emily she would have to dig a little, find out what they'd been doing outside of their time at work. It felt wrong to her, always had, but it was a necessary evil that she knew had to be done.

The first thing she did was check for missing women in this city, and outlying ones. There were a few, but most of them seemed to either be runaways or just didn't fit with the age of either Emily or J.J. Either way, she noted them, called Aaron and told him. He came to the same conclusion as her. The fourteen year old girl that was missing was likely a runaway. The sixty year old was a mystery, but since she had a history of mental problems and of disappearing periodically when she was younger, they wrote her off the list, too. The only one that remotely even seemed plausible was a thiry-five year old school teacher that had gone missing two weeks ago. She lived alone, had no children, wasn't married or divorced. Aaron told her to keep the name and check it out further, but for the time being try to see if there was any reason besides work that someone might want to take both Emily and J.J.

Forty minutes later she was still typing furiously when Derek came him. Penelope barely noticed. When she didn't pay him any attention, he cleared his throat, remaining near the door. Pausing momentarily, Penelope glanced behind her. "All I can tell you right now is that neither of them have any overlap except for work. They don't shop at the same places, live in the same area, aren't registered to any clubs or societies that are the same, didn't grow up anywhere near each other, colleges and universities don't match. Nothing," Penelope rattled off. It was frustrating, but not that surprising. She might not be a profiler, but she could tell that Emily and J.J. were as different as night and day, in likely all aspects of their life.

"Keep at it, Penelope," Derek said, but there was nothing more from him. When she looked back he was gone. Her pang of disappointment that he hadn't stayed longer vanished quickly. She had more important issues to deal with, even if it seemed like she was getting nowhere. Everything became a dead end when it came to either woman's life outside of work. The more she looked, the more frustrated she became until Penelope was crying again. If it had been any other case, she would have taken a few minutes to collect herself, to get her emotions under wraps. But there was no time, or so she kept reminding herself. Soon she stopped crying as she became more and more focused on what she was doing.

When Aaron called her, asking about the woman who had gone missing, Penelope snapped at him initially. After apologizing profusely she explained that the woman resembled J.J. more than Emily. Blonde hair, blue eyes, thirty-five to J.J.'s thirty-one. This seemed to bother Aaron almost as much as it had bothered her. Neither said much about it, and the call was brief, with Aaron saying he was at J.J's but it wasn't giving them much. Penelope hung up without a word, going back to her work. If this woman, Natalie Corrigan, had been taken by the same person, Penelope needed to see if there was a connection at all between her, Emily and J.J.

First try, there was nothing. Second try, Penelope found a connection to J.J. It seemed that in the past six months, the two frequently shopped at the same pet store. It wasn't much, and it could be one hell of a coincidence, but it was more than she'd found concerning Emily and J.J. Looking into it further, she found that J.J. had adopted a dog from the same shelter that Natalie volunteered at. Again, it could be a coincidence, but something told Penelope that it wasn't. When she told Aaron, he didn't seem to think it was either. It was a lead, not much of a lead, but at least it was something. Penelope's tiny sliver of hope grew, ever so slightly.


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

_Warning:_ Rape and death, though not explicit (at least I don't think) read at your own risk. Also, language.

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**Abandon All Hope**

_Chapter Two_

J.J. struggled to open her eyes. It was more difficult than anything she'd ever had to do. At least, it felt like it. She didn't understand why she felt this way, why her head hurt so badly, or why her body seemed so sore. Her first thought had been that maybe she'd gotten drunk the night before, since the only feeling that came close was a hangover, but J.J. didn't drink often. Not since her early college days had she found the consumption of alcohol overly enjoyable. In her opinion, it often led to bad decisions and regrets. Since she wanted neither, and rather liked being in complete control of herself, she chose to abstain.

When she finally got her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling. It was dark, or rather the room was. Dim light came from somewhere in the distance, but still J.J. couldn't really tell anything about where she was when she turned her head. That seemed strange to her. Even when it was dark she recognized her bedroom, and her house. Where was she? Confused, a little scared, J.J. tried to sit up. Halfway she felt nauseous, a hand coming to cover her mouth quickly as she gagged. Thankfully, she didn't vomit, but the feeling lingered.

Now that J.J. was sitting up, she could get a better look at the room. It wasn't very large, quite Spartan in its decorations. Aside from the bed she was sitting in there was only one chair, pushed up against the wall to her left. There were no pictures on the walls, no windows even. That, added to the fact that she couldn't remember a single thing about why or how she was here made her shiver. Clutching at the thin blanket that had been put over top of her, J.J. forced herself to her feet. Swaying just slightly, she managed to stay standing, but it was difficult. She was dizzy, the sick feeling in her stomach getting worse.

The dim light came from the door. It had been left open slightly, but not enough that J.J. could see what was on the other side. While she debated whether to find out, she looked for her gun under the bed, and in it. It wasn't there, but she hadn't expected it to be. Regardless of if she could remember the exact reasons she was there, J.J. had been in the business long enough to know that waking up in a strange room you've never seen before wasn't a good sign. It was a very bad sign, one that meant instead of hunting the criminals, you'd just become the hunted.

It was difficult for J.J. to keep her balance as she took small, uncertain steps forward. Her equilibrium felt off, and she wasn't sure this was even a good idea. Regardless, J.J. couldn't help but feel that sitting in a darkened room waiting for whoever took you to come back was a worse idea. It terrified her. When she was close enough to the wall, J.J. used a hand to support her as she walked. The going was still slower than she would have liked, but she felt wrong. Her stomach was still churning, her head throbbing, not to mention that every now and then she also felt light headed enough that she thought she was about to pass out.

Reaching the door seemed to take hours. In reality J.J. knew it had likely only taken a few minutes. Now that she was there, she was frozen with fear. What would she do if some psychotic UnSub had kidnapped her? She had no weapon. She was clearly hurt, though she had no idea how it had happened. It was frustrating. She was scared. J.J. willed herself not to cry, and nearly succeeded. Warm tears fell down her cheeks, which she immediately wiped away quickly. Crying would get her nowhere. Nowhere would get her killed.

The door opened easily, revealing a brightly lit hallway. It also contained no decorations. The walls were white, with no windows. J.J. hesitated a moment before continuing on. Her movement was still slow, especially as she was beginning to feel extremely tired. Fatigue hit her, causing all her aches to be amplified. While she wanted to equate it with torture, J.J. knew all too well that this feeling was not torture. She had seen firsthand the battered, mutilated bodies of torture victims. This time, when her stomach turned, she couldn't stop herself.

Falling to her knees, J.J. vomited. Her eyes stung with tears, her body shook. The smell made her stomach turn again, so she turned away quickly. The movement was too fast, it made her head spin. Eyes closed tightly, she pressed her hands against her temples, willing her body to function properly for at least five minutes. It refused, so she sat on the floor, back to the wall, curled in on herself. It did little to make her feel better, but at least she wasn't moving and making the situation worse.

When footsteps sounded on the hall floor, she turned her head. Again, the movement was too quick, and this time she was unlucky enough to pass out. All she saw before she did was a pair of blue jeans and a black belt. For her, there was nothing in the darkness. Just a peaceful calm that was ripped violently away from her with a hit to the face. It jarred J.J. awake, causing her to cry out in surprise and pain. Blinking rapidly, she tried to place her surroundings. It was difficult, as she was incredibly disoriented.

There was nothing that she recognized at first. Then, her eyes fell on the woman chained to the wall. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, black hair a mess. Dried blood was beneath her nose, bottom lip swollen. Bits and pieces came back to J.J. then. She remembered her talk with Emily about planning Penelope's surprise birthday party. She remembered taking the dogs outside so that they could use the bathroom, and the man that had been waiting for her inside. After that, she couldn't remember much.

Emily stared back at J.J. and as far as she could tell, the other woman held no fear about the situation. It was a lie, of course. Emily had always been able to school her features to mask whatever she was feeling. J.J. usually could too, but she knew that she was failing miserably right now. Everything was happening too fast for her, she was too caught off guard. There was no time for her to prepare for it. But then, neither had Emily. J.J. took strength from that, deciding to try harder not to show whoever had them her weaknesses.

It was difficult, since J.J. was currently being forced on her knees, with a hand roughly grabbing the back of her neck to guide her. The ground was hard, hurting her. That, added to her fear, caused her to make a small whimpering noise. The moment J.J. realized she was doing it, she stopped. It made her angry with herself, even though she knew deep down that getting mad over involuntary reactions to pain and terror wouldn't do her any good. She needed to focus on what would do her good, but right then, she couldn't think of anything that would help.

All J.J. could think about was Emily being beaten, the both of them being killed. The hopelessness of the situation seemed overwhelming. Given more time, J.J. would have been able to think more clearly, but the panic had set in fast. It refused to budge, multiplying when a door across the room flew open, revealing a second man. He was dragging a woman who looked barely conscious. She had blonde hair, and her nose was bleeding profusely. J.J. tried to look away, to turn her head, but the man holding her neck wrenched it back forward.

"No, you'll watch this, sweetheart, you'll watch every second of it," the man whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her ear, her neck. J.J. cringed, twisting away slightly. His grip on her tightened momentarily. Then she was gone, free of his grasp. J.J. almost fell forward when he let go, but caught herself in time. The man was still speaking. "You know how I know you'll watch every second of it?" he asked her, walking away and toward Emily, a hunting knife in one hand.

J.J. watched in horror as the man knelt beside Emily, just barely touching her skin with the tip of the knife. He ran it up, along the side of her face, lightly enough that it didn't cut her. Grinning, the man leaned nearer her, closing his eyes as he inhaled Emily's scent. When his eyes opened again, they were locked on J.J. and the tip of his knife was pressed against Emily's neck, hard enough that it drew blood. "If you don't keep your eyes on everything he does to that woman, I'll slit your pretty little friend's throat," he told her, with a just a hint of eagerness in his voice.

It was the eagerness that scared J.J. more than the actual threat. Clearly this man would enjoy doing it. It distracted J.J. enough that she didn't think about acting strong, or what was going to be done to the blonde woman that was now being placed on a bed in a corner of the room that J.J. hadn't noticed before. Her gaze lingered on the pair for only a few moments before going back to Emily and the man, who shook his head at her. Making a disapproving noise he nodded his head toward the other two. "Now, now. You heard what I said," he reminded her. "Keep your fucking eyes that way."

J.J. did what she was told, though she couldn't erase the image of Emily's scared face from her mind. The brave mask had fallen for just a second, but J.J. had seen. She was sure her own face mirrored it, especially since she was now watching the man undress the woman. Her eyes fluttered open, her head turning to the side as she mumbled, trying to speak. The man hit her, told her to shut up, and then began touching her. J.J. wanted to look away, but she was so scared that if she even looked down for a moment the man would kill Emily. So she watched as the man raped the woman, beating her all the while.

When he was finished, he leered at J.J. All she could think was how much she hated him, how much she wanted to shoot him for what he'd done that poor woman. She watched as he moved away from the woman, went to a table that held things that J.J. couldn't see on top of it. His back was to her, so she didn't see what he picked up, and when he moved back to the woman he held whatever it was so that J.J. still couldn't see it. He stopped beside the woman's head, touched her hair almost gently, and in the next instant J.J.'s hatred for him intensified. In one fluid motion, he brought up a knife and slit her throat.

Turning back to J.J., he wiped the bloody knife on his pant leg. With a little shrug he said, sounding a little bored, "Well, now you know what happens to the ones who give us trouble." He seemed to think that this explained everything, but it didn't. All it did was explain how much of a sadistic bastard he was. J.J. wanted to tell him just that, to tell him that she worked with the absolute best and that they would catch him, but she couldn't. She was stuck with fear, incapable of making a sound. In all honesty, she felt like she might forget how to even breathe, she was so afraid. Afraid that despite the excellence of her team, that they wouldn't catch these men in time. Afraid that like this woman bleeding out in front of her, she would wind up raped, beaten and dead.


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I'll try not to take so long between updates. For those of you who have reviewed favourably, I hope you enjoy this as much as you have the previous chapters.

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**Abandon All Hope**

_Chapter Three_

Spencer stood in the middle of the living room, glancing from the sliding door to the undisturbed broken lamp on the floor. Mind whirring, he mentally mapped out what had happened. From the look of the outside, they'd come in through the back gate, likely waiting in the dark until J.J. had come outside. Whether the dog had already been outside was unclear, but Spencer knew J.J. usually went outside with her dogs when they relieved themselves, especially when it was cold. He'd always found that unusually sentimental, the way she'd explained that if they had to suffer the elements, so did she. It was sentimental, but endearing. Even Spencer had to admit that.

Regardless, it wasn't something he needed to dwell on now. Pushing the stray thoughts from his mind, he concentrated, speculating on what had happened. The most likely scenario was that the dog had already been outside, an easy target when the man entered the backyard. Rather than wait for the animal to bark, alerting J.J. to an unwelcome presence, he'd stabbed the dog twice in the belly, then slit its throat. With J.J. already outside, she would have been vulnerable, easy enough for the man to get close to, threaten and force her inside. Once there, she would have attempted to fight back, would have knocked over the lamp, run to her bedroom.

That's where the second dog would have been, probably sleeping, or waiting for J.J. Blood at the scene had belonged to an unidentified male, mixed with canine saliva. Protecting J.J. the dog had attacked the man, allowing her time to get to a weapon. Once the dog had been stabbed, less neatly than the first, and less efficiently, the man would have attacked J.J. There wasn't enough blood to suggest that she'd been stabbed, but there was some. Emily's 911 call had indicated she'd been beaten, was unconscious. From the blood on the edge of the sink, it could only be assumed that she'd hit her head at some point.

None of it boded well for Spencer as he played it through, still remaining motionless in the living room. The thing that bothered him the most was how one man could effectively take two women in such little time. There had been less than ten minutes between Emily's call and the arrival of the police. Spencer was positive the man had help. It changed the likely sequence of events little. One man could have slipped inside, waiting for J.J. while the other waited outside. In all probability it would have played out the same way. UnSub One attacks from outside, herding J.J. into the house where UnSub Two attacks.

It was hard for Spencer not to get angry, not to let his emotions take over. J.J. was his closest friend on the team, she hadn't always been, but ever since Jason had left, Spencer had gravitated toward her. Initially it had been a silly crush, a harmless infatuation with the pretty blonde, because she was nice to him, had a gentle way of behaving around him where other people tended to point out his awkwardness. As time had passed, Spencer had learned to cherish J.J. as a friend, gotten to know her fears, dreams, and while he still hadn't exactly gotten over that initial crush, there was far more to his feelings for her than that. If he was hard pressed to name a best friend, it would have been J.J.

Sighing, he glanced around the room, suddenly overwhelmed with the situation. Usually he could handle things well, compartmentalize, but not when it came to her, or anyone from their team. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Spencer left the room, heading for the front door. Suddenly he needed air, needed space to breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, trapping him in a nightmare he couldn't escape from. The moment he stepped outside, into the sunshine, he felt better. Not significantly better, but enough that he didn't feel like he was going to have a panic attack. He really didn't need that sort of thing to happen just then.

Leaning against his car, Spencer tried not to think of the dogs. It seemed like an odd thing for him to be preoccupied with, worried about, but he'd known the dogs. More than once when he'd come to see J.J., or when they'd been out together at the park, the dogs had been happy to see him. It was strange for him, incredibly strange to have found two dogs that didn't react badly to him. Most dogs were skittish around him, probably picking up on the fact that Spencer didn't like them, that he was a little afraid of them. Some growled, tried to bite him, others slunk away, eyeing him like he was going to hurt them. It had never made sense to him, despite the fact that he could make sense of nearly everything.

Those two dogs had been different, they'd been gentle and sweet, much like J.J. herself. It didn't hurt that they'd been a sort of therapy for J.J., either. After the incident with Tobias Henkle, and J.J. being attacked by dogs, she'd been terrified of them. In order to get over that, she'd gotten a dog, an old mangy black thing that had been a day away from being euthanized. That had been the dog that'd had his throat slashed. His name had been Helo, and he'd had a red rubber ball that he'd slobber all over and would bring to Spencer so that he could have it thrown. Spencer had hated doing it, because he'd felt disgusting after, and always had to wash his hands three times to make sure they were clean enough.

J.J. had always laughed at him, told him he was being silly. Spencer had stopped saying anything to the contrary, because it didn't matter how matter of factly he pointed out that cleanliness kept you healthy, she waved it away. Thus, Spencer had preferred the other dog, the German Shepard named Luka. He didn't lick, slobber or jump on him. Luka was still a puppy, though you couldn't tell by looking at him, and J.J. had taken Spencer with her when she'd picked him out. It was her next step in overcoming her fear of dogs: getting one that wasn't old, one that didn't necessarily have a long history of steady, calm behavior. Luckily enough, Luka had shown to be just as even tempered as Helo had been.

Perhaps it was because J.J. was missing, but Spencer had already made up his mind that if Luka survived in the days following his surgery, the dog would be coming to stay with him until J.J. came back. There wasn't any ifs about it. Spencer had to believe that J.J. would come back alive, or else he would fall apart. No one could afford for that to happen. They needed him, just like they would need everyone in order to save both J.J. and Emily. With two team members gone, they were at a disadvantage, but they would pull through. They had to. For their sake.

It hit Spencer suddenly that he'd been more worried about J.J. than Emily. Guilt spread through him. From the moment she'd joined the team, Spencer had found Emily's company enjoyable, not on the same level that he found the company of J.J. enjoyable, but nearly so. He respected her, trusted her to remain calm under pressure, and he'd seen first hand how she handled being at the mercy of an UnSub. If anyone could survive this, he knew Emily could, and that she would use all her wits to keep herself safe. Spencer had to trust that Emily would do whatever she could to protect J.J. as well, calm the situation if she could.

His thoughts were interrupted by David, as he came out of the front door, a pinched look to his face. "Reid," he called out, voice tense. "I just got word that they've found a body in a field off the highway." The look in his eyes said it all, held all the fear that the body belonged to one of their missing teammates.

Immediately Spencer pushed his body away from the car. Words tumbled over each other in his mind, leaving him incapable of asking the questions he wanted to. How likely was it that either J.J. or Emily had been found? What was the state of the body? It seemed that for once, Spencer was completely incapable of speech. David seemed to sense this, seemed to sense the torrent of emotions inside Spencer. Perhaps it was because he was experiencing them as well, but as soon as the older man was close enough, he put a hand on Spencer's shoulder. The weight was comforting, brought Spencer's mind a tiny taste of clarity.

"She's blonde," David said softly, catching Spencer's eyes with his. "Hotch is already on his way, but all we know is that it's bad." It was clear enough in the way David spoke to him that he knew just how much J.J. meant to Spencer. There was a gentleness to the words, to the tone of voice being used that kept Spencer's heart from stopping in his chest.

"We have to," Spencer began, then stopped, unable to find the words. Shaking his head for a moment he tried again. "We have to go out there, see if it's her," he told David. Then he realized what he was saying. Of course they couldn't go to the scene. Hotch was already on his way, and they were already at a crime scene. This crime scene might just be the most important of all. If they looked hard enough, it could tell them something that would help them find their missing teammates. Spencer knew this, just as he knew David knew this. Whatever needed to be done at the crime scene holding the body of the blond woman, he had to trust Hotch to take care of it, to know when to call for help.

It was the most difficult thing he'd done all day, to admit that there wasn't anything he could do except stay where he was. If it was J.J. they would get a call. Spencer dreaded it, hated knowing that there was a poor dead blonde woman that might just be his best friend laying in a field. Images filtered through his mind, horrible images of raped, beaten women that had been dumped like trash. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he willed himself to calm down. When he opened them, David was watching him carefully, likely knowing exactly where Spencer's mind was at that very moment.

With a sigh, Spencer shook his head again. "No, Hotch can take care of this. Let's go see what we can find inside," he said, his voice sad and heavy. David didn't say anything, he didn't have to. They both knew where most cases like this ended, no matter how much wishful thinking happened to occur.


End file.
